Complimentary Scheme
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: [Chris, David, and Jalil SLASH] David watches his two friends, wondering why he missed the obvious for so long. Can you find happiness in something already perfect? Spoilers for end of series. And lots of cursing.
1. Swamps Suck

_Complimentary Scheme_

By Kay 

Disclaimer: If I owned Everworld, I would have less sporadic fleeing and more lust-filled glances between the three male characters. *coughs* But that's just me. 

Author's Notes: SLASH and eventual threesome-- be warned. A short little piece that turned into a monster when I was actually supposed to be working on "Caution: Falling." Inspired by Duck-K's awesome color-symbolic fic, "Crimson Like." It's amazingly beautiful and haunting, and after that, I would have bled for David. Go read it. NOW. And the sequal, dammit. 

Takes place approx. two years or so after the end of the series. Timeline-wise, they're still in the war and many things have changed. ^^;; Love Jalil! Enjoy? 

VERY OOC. Like, disturbingly so, even for me. Threesome fic, so don't read if you don't like it. Kudos to Ragnarok for being the first to do one, and much better than this, too. 

~~~~~ 

_ So carefully, he touched the firefly's back  
The glow upon flesh and searing into mist  
"I'll let you go for a price, my dear," he cried  
"Just pardon my wishes and give me a kiss." _

Had all World seen a romance, it was never like this! 

~~~~~ 

    It was swamp land for miles. 

    They had been through bad stuff before now. Places like Poseidon and Neptune's oceans, deep below the surface in the subterranean levels of the sea. Jagged mountains and savannahs where the sun was so hot that it could singe their eyebrows. All of it was uncomfortable… but this was _ridiculous._

    David growled angrily and shoved aside another clump of tall, slimy grasses. There was no end to it- they'd been marching onward for hours, boots sinking into the marshy wetlands until the mud oozed up to their knees, flecked dirt smeared across their faces like ugly war paint. He would have to burn these clothes when they finally reached Daggermouth, their final destination. Burn them, and wash his filthy hair eighteen times in the hottest pool of clean water around, and then use his own weight in pounds of salve to heal the vicious cuts lining his skin. The tall grasses were wet, but incredibly sharp. Even sharper were the disgusting leeches that showed up every so often on his calves. 

    _'I fucking hate swamps,'_ David decided bitterly. He batted away another buzzing insect trying to suck his already-depleted blood. _ 'There can't be any gods in this region. No sound-minded person would stick around to worship anyone in this shithole.'_

    He wasn't always this upset and dark-sounding, but he figured he deserved it after the past few weeks. Weeks of traveling with whiny men and sparse food had started taking its toll a few hours ago- or, rather, taking its toll _noticeably. _

    _'Next time some remote section of Everworld wants me to save it from a few Hetwan, I'm just sending the Vikings,'_ David thought in irritation. He swatted another bug and was promptly accosted by six others. _ 'A few of them can do the work of this entire group, and they wouldn't complain nearly so much. Good grief.'_

    It hadn't been nearly like that, but he was allowed to exaggerate. In truth, the group of twenty-five men was composed of either Greek warriors or Celtic healers- two very useful groups in a fight. It hadn't taken much to defeat the last of the Hetwan forces residing in the area, and though David could admit that he wasn't really needed on this expedition, it was nice to have a break away from the bigger battles. There had been a sluggish point in Ka Anor's attacks lately, so he'd leapt at the chance to get away. The small skirmish had been easily handled… a perfect time to rest his guard a little… 

    David grimaced as another tall reed slapped him in the face. 

    Of course, he didn't realize he'd be trekking through swamp for two days, either. 

    Behind him, he could hear slurping footsteps struggling through the mud. A panting young man worked his way up to his leader, taking gasping breaths. 

    "Patroclus," David acknowledged, eyeing him. "What is it now?" 

    "Th-the men are weary, General Davideus, and desire rest." 

    David sighed softly, rubbing gritty fingers against his forehead in a gesture of frustration. "I see. Again?" 

    Standing slightly behind him, the Greek warrior shifted uncomfortably and kept his blue eyes locked on the tattered ground. Carefully following specks of damp mud with his eyes, he added in a voice steadily free of defensiveness, "We have traveled many nights and days, General Davideus. Many of them have been without food and water. Should we go a step further, many men are claiming they will rebel." 

    "And they still send you to tell me, Patroclus, rather than come up and admit it to my face," David grumbled, sticking his sword in the fresh earth. Still, he had to admit silently to himself that it was true. Glancing around as the exhausted group of men he'd been traveling with, it was easy to see that they'd been going too long without the small comforts of a fire-cooked meal and sleeping grounds. 

    Still, "I don't know if it's a good idea to stop here. We should reach Daggermouth in two days if we clear this area in one stride," he said in a soft, weary voice. 

    Patroclus opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, a blonde man shoved his way through the ranks of men. He was a tall and mud-splattered figure, glaring at David with blue eyes that were too bright for the foggy atmosphere. 

    "Christopher," David said dryly. "How wonderful to see you alive and keeping up for once." 

    The blonde made a mocking face at him. "Screw you. David, if you don't let us stop, I'm going to shove my foot straight up your-" 

    "Shut up, Christopher." Jalil rolled his eyes, shoving past the blonde in a firm motion. He had appeared from the ranks of men as well, shouldering a large backpack of sorts. He glanced at the leader sympathetically. "Look, David, he's an idiot- but for once he's right." 

    "Can I have you repeat that?" 

    Ignoring the blonde, Jalil continued in his rational but exhausted tone. "The men can't take much more of this. At least meet them half way; give us a few hours of rest before we continue. Then, as soon as we get out of this hellhole, we should try stopping for camp. We'll need sleep and food supplies if we plan to make it back to Daggermouth in two days, anyway." 

    Against his men, David could argue. Against Patroclus' hesitant pleading and Christopher's common threats, he could remain firm. But Jalil's logic always had the same effect on him, putting him in a place where he had no choice but to agree and retreat to a compromise. 

    "Fine. We'll rest for _only_ an hour, though, got that? Then we concentrate on getting out of this place alive so we can take a night to gather our strength." He sighed heavily, running a dirty hand through his sweat-matted hair. "God, this sucks. How can you guys look so calm?" 

    Christopher, who'd been glaring viciously at the bugs that were swarming at him, opened his mouth. Jalil beat him to it. 

    "We're just as pissed off as you are. But less macho." 

    "Yeah," Christopher chimed in, brightening. "And better looking at the moment. I'm not sure if all that mud is improving your face or making it worse, General." 

    David's mouth twitched as he allowed a reluctant grin. "I must look pretty bad if _you're_ the attractive one." 

    "Ouch! Hit below the belt. You fight dirty, General." 

    "Says the guy who thinks biting and hair-pulling constitute as fair fighting." 

    "Survival is survival," the blonde replied solemnly, quirky laughter glimmering in his eyes. "If you have to sink your teeth into someone's kneecap to accomplish it, so be it." 

    "This is all nice and conversational, but your men are sending you murderous looks," Jalil pointed out wryly. "Maybe you should tell them we're stopping?" 

    "Patroclus, tell them we're taking an hour rest," David said immediately, red tinting his features momentarily. Christopher laughed at his embarrassment. "And… tell them we'll stop for nightly camp as soon as we clear the swamp grounds." 

    Patroclus flashed him a relieved smile. "Yes, General! Right away!" He turned and began yelling at the troops. Moments later, the entire band stopped in their tracks, plopping down onto random rocks above the mud. Booming laughter and sighs of appreciation followed the creaks of bones. 

    David wadded his way further out, climbing up on a small rock perch. Christopher and Jalil joined him after a moment, easing their loads down before they leaned back onto the dry surface. The three youths exchanged slight grins. 

    "I never, ever want to walk anywhere… _ever_ again," the blonde exclaimed dramatically, flinging his arms out. 

    "You kept falling behind as it was," David said in exasperation. He leaned back on his elbows, rolling his eyes at his friend's mock-swooning. "If I thought you'd be so much trouble, I would've let you stay back with the dwarves." 

    "Yeah, and let you have all the fun? You wound me, General." 

    "The idiot got himself burned on his shin during the battle," Jalil interrupted smoothly, flicking back a strand of his inky black hair. It had been growing out for the past year or so, hanging gently down past his chin and framing his face. Somewhere along the road, he'd procured a strip of leather to tie it back with, but tendrils still fell into his eyes too often. "He's been whining about it ever since." 

    "It fucking hurts!" Christopher protested, scowling at the mocha-skinned boy. "I'd like to see _you_ walk across the country with a gaping hole in _your_ leg, damn it." 

    "I wouldn't have let it happen in the first place." 

    "Oh, like you're so invincible." It was tenser than it should have been. 

    "No; just not stupid enough to jump in the way of a Hetwan spitwad." 

    "But you're sure as hell stupid enough to stand there and let it happen!" snapped the blonde. Jalil whipped his head around, bristling in irritation and something a little darker. Something that had been brewing ever since they started speaking to David, though he hadn't realized the underlying tone until this moment. 

    "Shut up! I knew what I was doing!" 

    David looked between them uncertainly. It had been a light-hearted atmosphere moments ago, but an angry tension was starting to grip the air. The words had twisted into something he didn't understand and could barely begin to- obviously not just a joke any longer. 

    "Guys…?" 

    "Oh, you always know what you're doing, don't you?" Christopher continued darkly, ignoring David's quiet question. "Always in control and so damned smart… if you were smart, you wouldn't have just frozen up like that. You were in battle, for Christ's sake. Standing shock still _guarantees_ you an early grave, you stubborn, arrogant-" 

    "Like you were any better," snapped Jalil, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Jumping in front of that acid spitwad like some _maniac._ What if it had hit you somewhere fatal, huh? Shit, if it had been a bad one, if you hadn't twisted so fast, if your body hadn't been in that position-" 

    "Guys?" David asked timidly. 

    "And letting it hit _you_ dead on was a better idea?!" 

    "It wouldn't have! You didn't need to do _anything."_

    _"The hell I didn't!"_ Christopher shouted. He wasn't sprawled out carelessly anymore, but sitting rod-straight up, glaring at Jalil's flushed face. With one hand he jabbed an accusing finger at the boy. "Why are you even going into battle if you can't take fucking care of yourself, huh?!" 

    That did it- the fire in Jalil's eyes flared, snapping his composure into two pieces. He jerked back, slitting his eyes dangerously and giving the blonde a look of pure scorn. "Look who's talking. You were supposed to be _fighting_, not watching out for me, dumbass. Who's not ready for it again? _ You_ or _me?"_

    "And I was supposed to just watch as that Hetwan burned a hole through your freakin' head," Christopher mocked viciously. 

    "If you had to!" 

    "_Fuck_ that!" 

    "You _don't_ need to protect me, Christopher! _ I'm not like fucking Etain!"_

    Dead silence. 

    David's mouth was hanging open. Nearby, the men shifted restlessly, avoiding eye contact and pretending they weren't listening to every heated word being said. Christopher's face was deathly pale now, his blue eyes stark against the horrified pallor of his face. 

    Jalil, on the other hand, looked mortified. 

    "Jalil," Christopher said. It wasn't anything. Just his name, simple and stunned and startled all rolled into that single word, but somehow it was different than how David had ever said it, or how _anyone_ else had ever said it. "I… I didn't…" 

    Jalil, almost as shocked as everyone else, shook his head. "No, don't, I didn't mean to-" 

    "You don't really think that-" 

    "Jesus, no. I just… I…" 

    "Jalil," Christopher whispered again, and it held the same surprised aching that it had before, that had never been used with that name before now. David stared between them, trying to understand on some distant plane as his mind scrambled pieces together. "I never, it was just-" 

    "I know." Resigned, embarrassed. Jalil covered his face with long, slender fingers and groaned softly. "I know. I'm sorry." 

    "But you-" 

    "We should talk," the young scientist said quietly. He avoided Christopher's still-pale face and too-bright eyes. "Somewhere else. Alone." 

    "… yeah." 

    Without another look around them, without even saying a word, the two youths stood up from the rock and jumped back into the muck. Christopher threw an apologetic glance at David, silently asking him to remain a moment, but his attention was gone not a moment later. His hands were busy leading Jalil towards a small fringe of grasses not too far away. He was already bending his head down to murmur to the mocha-skinned scientist. Jalil shook his head silently. 

    David watched until the grasses covered them, hearing only soft voices and slightly upset tones. His mouth was still gaping open. 

    _'Well. I didn't expect that.'_

    Seeing the men brighten at the prospect of more rest, he groaned slightly and leaned back on the rock. His brain was swimming with the earlier argument, already placing pieces together. Really, he was amazed he hadn't seen it sooner. Of course, he'd been busy with the whole war thing, and leading troops of men was a lot harder than it looked, so he didn't have time to- 

    But still. How could he _not_ have noticed? In his two_ best_ friends? 

    Things always seem clearer when you take a second look at them. 

***** 

    It had probably started after Etain's death. 

    The war had begun with a ferociousness that shocked even David, who had been prepared for what he thought was the worst. Immediately after gathering the Vikings, elves, and dwarves' support, they had begun setting the foundation for their army. He had messengers sent out in all directions, bearing news of the rebellion against Ka Anor and the Sennites- and even more importantly, he sent out spies. Spies to trace where the gun-toting humans had been running. 

    They'd already reached Ka Anor by the time they were discovered. 

    It was an awful thing, to realize your worst fears were coming alive. David remembered vividly, all the moments where he'd despaired and triumphed in that small period of time. The rough feel of granite under his fingers as he paced through the hallways, tracing the stone walls and staring off into a grander picture. Pouring through the library with Jalil for maps and diagrams that may prove useful to their cause. Being dragged away by Christopher and scolded by April for working too hard. His eyes were shadowed and face thinned by worry and restlessness; it hurt to look at his reflection in those days, to see the way he carved himself. 

    By the time they'd gained the Celtic support, as well the approval of Atlantis and what was left of the Knights of the Round Table (and there were few, at best), Ka Anor had discovered this newest threat. But there had been nothing he could do about it yet, nothing except try to accelerate his already fading force. 

    Back in Daggermouth, even as David was pouring over strategy and wrestling with his own demons, their own tragedy struck. 

    _'Etain. She's… oh god, David, help me, I don't know what-'_

    Somehow it seemed much more vivid than all his memories of battle. Every strike of the sword was _nothing_ compared to the devastation on Christopher's face; every cry to charge forward faded in comparison to the pain in his friend's eyes, the harsh wracking sobs that shook his body against the wall, when he _begged_ it not to be true, when he begged _David_- 

    Even now, it hurt a little. 

    He hadn't known Etain very well. He knew who she was, felt comfortable around her as much as any polite and sweet woman. But he didn't really know her, not in the way that Christopher had, and yet he felt the loss deeply. She had been a symbol for all they fought for, only dead and gone because of a mere accident. Falling down the hallway stairs in the main courtyard of Daggermouth Castle, her head striking the stone and wounding her fatally. 

    The blood stained the stairway to this day. Christopher laid flowers over the spot every month to this very time, spreading the soft daffodils across the garish sight of crimson. 

    _'I miss her. I miss her all the time,' _the blonde had once told him. He stared down at the flowers blankly, hands shoved deeply into his makeshift pockets. David wanted to say something, but remained silent. That was okay. Christopher talked for him, said the words he desperately wanted to. _'I miss her more than home, more than TV and my family, and I feel it even worse when I'm here. I loved her... You know? You know what it's like to wake up and know the most special thing in the world is gone? And I…' _

    'Christopher.' 

    The youth smiled bitterly, rubbing his eyes in an offhand manner. _ 'Fuck. I've gotten so soft. I can't spend a day without thinking about her anymore. And it's totally useless, man. She's not here. Not anymore.'_

    _'… I'm sorry,'_ David whispered painfully. 

    Christopher smiled sadly at him. It was an expression he'd never seen on him, and something he hoped would never grace his presence ever again. 

    Etain's sudden death was no consequence to the war itself. King Baldwin remained true to his promise, upholding the ideals of his late wife and queen- he never once threw them out. Whether it was because of nobility, or rather the fact that he could see the profit left in this war for him, was yet to be said. David thought it was the latter, but he wasn't about to complain about the hand that literally fed them. In the end, he wanted to tell himself, it's all about the war. 

    Except it wasn't. And Etain was perhaps the worst casualty he'd ever known, despite all differences and estrangements. 

    Christopher had been hit the worst. April, too, though her faith allowed her a quiet and gentle acceptance. Christopher had none of it. He paced through hallways, sunlight glittering on his blonde hair as he grew restless and trapped in memories. Days would pass and he'd only eat the most needed. David would have scoffed if anyone had told him the blonde could act so despairingly, but it was right before his eyes- Christopher was slowly fading away into a shell. An empty, hollow shell with a fake smile that never reached his eyes. 

    _'I don't find anything funny anymore. Life's a tragedy. I'm getting used to it now.'_

    He spent his days brooding, taking over the Angst title David previously held. (At least, that's what April claimed.) All Christopher would do was take flowers down to the stairway in the courtyard, brood some more, and then go shut himself up in a random room to finish what they all suspected was… more brooding. 

    A grieving friend behind a locked door is dangerous, David knew. But there was nothing to say to help it. He tried talking reason into Christopher, tried coaxing and listening and gently pushing him towards healing. None of it worked. Every soft word, encouraging wish, and attempts to fix what was broken failed miserably. David, immersed with plans of the war, felt the cold grip of failure- once again, he couldn't save someone. Especially _this_ someone. A someone he desperately wanted… and needed… to save. 

    And then there were explosions. 

    It was so simple that it hurt. Somehow, throughout the entire episode, David had managed to forget Jalil in a way. Jalil was easy to pass by; he faded into the woodwork when he wanted to, exerted just enough silence to make himself insignificant for the moment. And with everything that had been happening, David had nearly passed him by, forgotten that there was still one more person who hadn't tried to reach Christopher. 

    The slap of a hand on a table. 

    David remembered looking up from his meal, exhausted, pained, tired of living. Christopher was sitting across from him and looking not much better. His plate of food was still full and untouched, only brushed with the darkened stare of depression that he sent it. And then there was Jalil. 

    Jalil, he remembered years later, had never been tactful or simple. 

    But somehow it didn't matter. He stood there, hands on his skinny hips in front of Christopher, somehow as opposing and unmovable as a wall. He shouldn't have been, not with the clothing the dwarves gave him slipping over his wrists and down one shoulder, causing him to continually shove it back towards his neck again- but he was. He was, and his hair was pulled back messily from his face, revealing sharp black eyes and pursed lips and frustration and anger and disgust and hopeful determination, all in the same heartbeat. 

    _'Get up. We're going.'_

    It had taken four words. And David stared, dumbstruck, even more so than Christopher at the power in them. The show of life they'd almost forgotten. 

    _'What the hell are you talking about?'_ Christopher finally demanded, glaring upwards. _'Who's going where?!'_

    _'You,'_ Jalil said emphatically, _'are coming with me.'_

    _'What?'_

    And though he looked scrawny, David was reminded of Jalil's strength once again as the young scientist hauled Christopher up with one arm and shoved him to the exit with the other. Despite all the protests, all the confused admonishments, he managed to propel the blonde all the way down to the courtyard, straight to the steps where the daily flowers still laid sorrowfully over a stain that would never erase. 

    _'Look at that,' _Jalil had said. David, who had followed, obediently glanced down at the spot with a cringe. Christopher's jaw tensed. He did not look. 

    _'Look,' _Jalil repeated. 

    Christopher said, _'What am I looking for?'_

    _'For what you want to do with your life,'_ Jalil had answered coldly. _'Now look.'_

    He looked. 

    _'You can do whatever the hell you want, Christopher. You can spend the rest of your life moping and brooding in your room, tragically fading into nothing as the world falls around you. You can go out to war and die in a blaze of glory, thinking only of the welcome you'd like to get on the supposed other side- in her arms in paradise. You can waste yourself. Starve. Be a jackass to everyone and everything, as long as your pain surrounded you continually. Give up everything you are just for her, for her ending.'_

    David remembered thinking numbly that this was exactly what would happen. 

    _'Or,'_ Jalil had said quietly. _ 'You can come with me right now and have dinner. You can sit with David and me, and we can talk, and we can listen, and you can tell us exactly why you should give up your entire existence for one person.'_

    Christopher stared at him. First in shock- his mouth gaped open, eyes blinking rapidly in startling surprise. And then in anger, his blue eyes narrowing and lips twisting into an ugly growl. 

    _'How… dare you…' _he seethed, seeming more alive than he had in ages. There was fire in his voice, his eyes, the way he clenched his fists. _'I loved her, dammit! You can't just fix that!'_

    _'Yes, you loved her, you idiot! But she's dead! She's gone. That's it, Christopher. There isn't going to be a happy ending for you two, there won't be anything from now on. You have to deal with it-'_

    Christopher punched him. 

    David, who had been staring in a half-horrified trance the entire time, started to wake up. He fumbled forward, trying to grab onto Christopher's flying arm as the blonde attempting to strike Jalil again. The scientist was laying, sprawled out on the ground and holding his nose with a pained expression, and trying to fend off the blonde's wild swings with the other hand. 

    _'You cruel- insensitive bastard! You have NO fucking idea!'_ screamed Christopher, ripping his arm away from David and throwing himself at the prone youth. _ 'You don't know- you can't- understand-'_

    _'She's gone, dammit! She's just gone!'_

    _'SHUT THE HELL UP!'_

    Jalil didn't bother trying to block any more of the punches, though his face was looking rather cut up and painful at the moment. Instead, he grabbed onto Christopher. Grabbed on like he was a lifeline, his arms winding all the way around the thick torso and flying arms, tight and pressed up so close that his face was buried into the blonde's shoulder. 

    Christopher fought. He cursed. He struggled. He tried to shove Jalil away. But he just held tighter, held stronger. 

    Weeks later, David would remember, too, a time when they'd all held Christopher like that. Away from the screaming. Ganymede's screaming. Just holding so tight so that he couldn't ever get away from them. To keep him safe. To keep him _there_ with them, away from death and pain… 

    _'Let go! You bastard, I'll kill you! I'll fucking rip you apart!'_ screamed Christopher hoarsely, trying to claw at Jalil's arms and nearly succeeding. The dark-skinned boy just gritted his teeth and clung tighter. _ 'I hate you! I HATE YOU!' _

    'She's gone, Christopher!' 

    'I'll KILL YOU! I HATE YOU!' 

    'I know,' Jalil gasped, and it was almost a tired sob. _'I know. But she's gone. She's gone, Chris-' _

    'I HATE… hate…' 

    'I know,' whispered Jalil. Christopher went tense for a very long moment, in which David held his breath and clung to the castle wall, staring intently as something enfolded that he knew he could never understand. And then, the tension that had framed his friend's shoulders slowly dissipated. His golden head bowed. His fists loosened and finally fell limply to his sides. 

    Jalil held him still, even as he slumped down in his embrace and buried his face in the skinny shoulder he was trying to wound not moments ago. One of the scientist's hands relaxed; he brought it up and rested it on Christopher's head, gently resting it there like an anchor. 

    The world was silent. 

    And when Christopher began crying, he hugged Jalil back, and David had never heard a sweeter sound than grief finally released. 

    _'Sh-she's g-gone…' _

    'I know. I know.' 

***** 

    They started off through the swamp an hour later than planned. 

    David told the men it was because he knew they deserved a break, but everyone understood the real reason. The proposed hour had already passed and Christopher was still talking to Jalil nearby, their hushed tones running along the reeds and disappearing before they hit any ears. After the general had announced their rest would continue on for an hour longer, neither one had reacted in any way. To be honest, David thought they were in their own world. 

    They stopped talking about fifteen minutes before the time was finished. 

    "We're done," Jalil told him off-handedly, looking embarrassed even through his gratitude. "Thanks for waiting." 

    "I wasn't waiting for you," David replied lightly, though they both knew it was a lie. Christopher smiled jerkily at him, accepting the bullshit answer, and they all began shoving their packing gear on their backs again. It was very quiet when the men began their trek through the disgusting swamp. It had been quiet before, too, though, so it wasn't that bad. Not nearly as bad as it could have been. 

    They talked as they traveled. 

    "It was something we should have gotten out of our system a long time ago," Jalil admitted, shoving aside a tall grass in his way. Their boots squished in the mud as they walked side-by-side, three men in front of an army and still discussing frivolous things like romantic squabbles and everyday life. Ever since they started, Christopher had taken to standing a few inches closer to the dark-skinned scientist than he had before- something David noted, but didn't mention. 

    "We don't really talk about this kind of shit, but we should," Christopher agreed. "Sorry it came at such a bad time." 

    "Hopefully, we've learned our lesson." 

    "It's okay," David said hesitantly, wondering idly in his mind if it really _was_, "I just didn't even realize that you guys were…" 

    Christopher and Jalil exchanged glances. 

    "Sucking face?" the blonde suggested. Jalil promptly hit him in the arm for it, rolling his eyes. "_Ouch!_ Jesus, _what_?! It's true!" 

    "It was rude and horribly savage," the scientist replied coolly. He flashed a dry, amused smile at David. "Well, you probably have a good idea, anyway. We're involved with each other, yes. For quite a while now. A couple, I guess." 

    "You guess?" he asked doubtfully, tightening the strap to his backpack. "That sounds kind of vague, Jalil." 

    "We're still working it out," Christopher said sheepishly, throwing an apologetic look at Jalil through the mud-streaked blonde bangs of his hair. "But I'd say that yes, we're pretty close to being one." 

    "Close to _being_ one?" 

    "We're still working on the details," Jalil said. 

    "Which explains the awkward disagreement," Christopher continued. 

    "Which won't happen again." 

    "And we're very sorry." 

    "Truly." 

    "Please don't make us hike back with the healers again, they make funny sounds." 

    Ignoring the last comment (Christopher's innocent little add-in, naturally), David heaved a deep sigh and shrugged. The two young men watched him anxiously, offering tiny smiles when the general glanced between them again. Finally, after a few more minutes of trekking through clumps of mud and debris from smashed plants, he slowly let out what was on his mind. 

    "This… _thing_… between you guys. It's not going to get in the way?" 

    He wasn't sure what that meant. The words came out of his mouth, automatic and somehow slightly fearful, and even though he gestured to the army- as though he meant the war effort, their battles and meaningless trifles- he subconsciously knew that it wasn't what he meant at all. David cared about the war, yeah. But even he wasn't so stupid as to think that something like this would ever matter in the big picture. 

    No, he was asking about a much smaller picture. 

    He watched quietly, hesitantly; their expressions were startled and somehow faintly pleased, in an awkward sort of way that showed through Christopher's tiny grin and the widening- and then, abruptly, softening- of Jalil's dark eyes. 

    "It won't get in the way," it was finally Jalil who answered in an oddly gently fashion. He exchanged another look with Christopher, communicating silently under black lashes before he turned his gaze back on David. His dark-skinned face was shadowed by the dried mud down his sharp cheekbones, sticking soft strands of black hair to his face. "It never did before, and it won't now." 

    David swallowed thickly, an indescribable tension clamping down on a large portion of his chest. Feeling as though the words came through a blockade, he asked, "Are you sure?" 

    "You take me for a liar?" mocked Christopher, smirking. And then, somewhat sheepishly, "Well, I'm not a good one, anyway." 

    "Look, Christopher and I haven't got everything mapped out right now," Jalil interrupted smoothly. "We haven't… well, we only figured out some things, and the other things are still coming. We didn't want to say anything until the complexities of the arrangement were sorted through." 

    "In other words," the blonde said dryly, "we have no idea what the hell we're doin', but you would've found out eventually." 

    "And it changes nothing," Jalil finished calmly. He flicked a tall wild reed back from his face, raising an eyebrow at David's worried face. "Unless you think it should." 

    He was silent for a moment. 

    The strange buzz of insects and slap of reeds against water echoed around them, the soft murmurings of the men behind their backs and catching up. If the sudden brightening in the murky sky was any sign, they'd be out of this hellhole swamp in no time. David took a deep breath of the thick, humid air and sighed. 

    To be honest, he wasn't sure what he was asking anymore. 

    "What should it change?" was all he said instead, very simply. 

    "Nothing," Christopher answered immediately. "Nothin'. We're still cool, you and us, man. Just because Jalil and I have some stuff to work out doesn't mean… you know, you're still one of us. A friend. Doesn't change any of the important stuff." 

    "Only some of the smaller subtleties," his darker-skinned counterpart continued softly, his tone measured. "Nothing's changed today; only your perspective of us. There won't be any tension or distance unless it's from your side." 

    "You're still our friend," Christopher echoed. He hesitated. "And… um…" 

    "Our friend," Jalil interrupted sharply, throwing him a warning glare. 

    David bit his lip warily, eyeing them both. It wasn't that he was disgusted with the arrangement- the past few months spent in Everworld had revealed so much diversity that a gay couple hardly turned his head, especially with all the sleeping around most gods did. And after Ganymede, both he and Christopher and softened their views on the matter. He was worried, though. It seemed strange that he hadn't noticed this… interaction… between them for so long. Yet now, watching the way they communicated without words and walked close enough to brush arms, it seemed almost plain as day. Surely someone else had figured it out before him. Surely it didn't matter, anyway, because he should be happy for them. They deserved their slice of happiness, wherever they could find it. 

    But his stomach was twisting and he didn't know why. 

    "If you guys are sure about it…" he finally said, taking a deep breath. "I'm okay with it. Just- just don't… I mean…" 

    "We don't advertise, if that's what you're worried about." 

    It wasn't, but David nodded in acceptance. 

    "Look! Light up ahead! We're nearing the end of our harrowing journey!" cried one of the men from the front lines. They all turned. Sure enough, the glimmering sunlight was set just beyond the next set of reeds and trees, the split-off characteristically abrupt for this strange universe. Beyond it, David could see meadows that were hilly, but still firm enough to plant tents upon. 

    He concentrated on that. Because if he kept talking to Christopher and Jalil, he wasn't sure what he might say. 

***** 

W00t, baby. Part One finished! Part Two's actuaully half-way done, but I figured this was a good posting-stop point. Yes, it's very OOC. I can't actually write good threesome stuff without moving into a weird realm of bad characterization. You want something that sounds good and likely, read "Masterpiece"- quality stuff, man, I tell ya. I love this fandom. ^___^ 

Kudos to Miss Duck-K, because she egged me on. Glory to the smutlet bunnies! *heart* 

Kudos to my cherub-chan, for being just sweet and lovely and putting up with me when I am never on-line. Maybe I should try calling her sometime. ^_^;; If she wants me, too, I mean... don't want to make her uncomfortable... erm... loveyouhunny! 

Kudos to the rest of the EW fandom for throwing out all this fic. Dude. Rock on. *worships* 

Part Two: David walks in on a steamy scene, things get uncomfortable, Jalil's a sexy bitch, and Christopher is the Master and Commander of his Bitches. Or whatever. For record's sake, there will be no lemon in this fic. Just some nice sexy making out, if that. Mwah. 

***** 


	2. Christopher Flirts Madly and Jalil has T...

_Complimentary Scheme_

By Kay 

Disclaimer: If I owned it, it would look more like this. Some people would cry. Some people would send me cookies… 

Author's Notes: Second Part up! Sorry it took so god-awfully long. I'm in college right now, and it's really busy... good, but busy. Plus, I have to make some apologies to some good friends of mine that I've really wronged... ;; Anyway-- I suck, but at least I've got something to show for my absence from writing. Er, something. Actually, this was supposed to be longer, but I cut off the last part to add to Chapter 3, because I haven't finished redoing it yet (I had to fiddle with this earlier to make it work). Anyway, it should be ready fairly soon... we'll see. First I have some HP stuff I have to update. 

Thanks for being patient, guys. :) Uh, I hope the fandom isn't dead... hmm... 

And yes, I plan to finish all my fanfiction. ALL of it, no matter how long it's been.

* * *

The orange glare of the sun was fading when they began setting up camp. 

"General, there are a few saplings beyond the next hill! Should we start making shelters?" 

"Someone start a cooking fire!" 

"Red meat tonight! _Ahahahahahaa!"_

"Break out the ale, cloddish wretches! Tonight we celebrate the aching woes of our feet, hah!" 

David listened to the shouts of the men with a mixture of amusement and half-affectionate exasperation, much in the way that any leader regards his troops. He knew quite a few of the soldiers-- the boisterous shouting of the man unpacking the food was Narthus, a plump and vicarious man that enjoyed eating about as much as merciless slaughtering of Hetwan. Patroclus was busy heading the shelter-building, shouting out orders in his calm and pleasant voice (to be honest, he always thought the young Greek soldier would make a great General himself soon, as long as he kept his head). A few of the Celtic healers were congregated near the shadow of the hillside, slinging their packs off their backs and bringing out soothing balms to treat the sores of their comrades. He didn't know many of them, but they seemed a far cry more subdued than the rest of his men. And it was definitely an improvement over the Vikings-- who would have ordered a party the second the traveling stopped. 

He milled about for a while, trying to keep his thoughts on the simple things. He corrected a few of the makeshift shelters Patroclus was helping to build; they were a bit like tents, only slightly more oblong and triangular in shape, like a prism of rough canvas and thin tree trunks. After speaking to Ophenius, who was taking inventory, and getting a better idea of their supplies, he finally settled down near the fires that were started up. By then, the sky had darkened to a bruised purple and blue, nightfall sneaking quickly up upon them like a thief in the night. 

It wasn't a bad time, actually, David thought to himself. He slumped down on one of the logs that had been cut for seating, staring into the fiery glow of the campfire. The small fires dotted the camp, each with a group circled around them, laughing and eating-- the men were happy to relax. On the edge, he saw a few of the guards he'd set up earlier, but even though they looked less than alert, the general chose not to comment on it. He wasn't feeling very quick and alert himself, after all. 

_'It feels so normal. Sometimes I think it shouldn't, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like that.'_

Sighing softly, David tilted his head towards the sky. Slips of mahogany brown fell into his eyes-- he blinked, shaking his face slightly to send them away. From one of the campfire circles, a roar of laughter from the men seemed to penetrate the haze of thoughts in his mind. It was almost peaceful tonight. The soft voices of the soldiers, the crackling of the fire, and the cool breezes of the night on his skin… 

_'It's not so bad like this.'_

Maybe it was just because he was out of the damned swamp, though. 

David grinned to himself. 

"What do _you_ look so happy for? Someone just offer you a piece of Everworld that's not completely fudged up?" 

Just as quickly as his good mood started, it plummeted to the bottom of his mud-caked boots. Inwardly, David fought off a wave of irritation and confusion, trying to ignore the feelings still left over from earlier as he turned to face his blonde friend. "Huh… funny you mentioned that. As it happens, I _was_ offered one. I turned it down to stay in this hellhole with you guys." 

"Moron," Christopher commented mildly, plopping down on the log beside him. The blonde tossed a lopsided grin at him. "See, that's why I worry about having you as our fearless leader. You're obviously insane." 

"Yet you still follow me." 

"We still follow you," Christopher affirmed sadly. "Mostly because you're not nearly as insane as the rest of the nutcases here." 

"Thanks. I think," he replied dryly, relaxing a bit inside. The banter was light and earnest; it felt familiar to fall into the play of words, so long as he didn't turn and look at the blonde's face. Whatever was wrong with him earlier would just fade away soon, obviously. There was no reason to worry. It was just Christopher. 

David smiled in relief at the thought. That was right. It was _Christopher._ His friend for years. Constant companion. Why was he getting so worked up about talking to him now? Hadn't it always been like this? Nothing was different. 

Nothing had changed. 

He turned and gazed at the blonde from the corner of his eye, keeping his gaze directly on the fire in front of them while he subtly studied Christopher. The flickering flames threw a fiery tint to his yellow hair-- the strands seemed almost molten, his eyes a stark and almost harsh blue when compared to the vibrancy of the gold. He was grinning. That wasn't unusual. Christopher had always been a grinner, spent most of his days griping, but usually had some sort of half-assed smile on his face when he did so-- that was just his way. 

He didn't look different at all, David thought absentmindedly, enjoying the silence now. _'What was I worried about?'_

"Hey, look," the blonde said. 

"At what?" 

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny," Christopher grumbled, shoving a foot at the ground. He pounded his heel into the earth, studiously keeping his eyes fastened on the dirt clod he was creating. "I think some of my lame attempts at humor are rubbing off on you." 

"Ugh, don't compare me to_ you."_

"You know you want to be me," the blonde muttered, smirking. "They all idolize me here. They think I'm funny." 

"At least April, Jalil and I know better, right?" David teased. He smacked the boy lightly with his elbow, unable to resist giving him a cocky grin. "We know the truth. How horrifying your jokes really are. Horrifyingly _bad."_

"Shut up, Napoleon, or I'll steal your sword in the dead of night and throw it into a random lake." 

"When she burns you, I'll enjoy listening to your screams." 

"Your sword doesn't scare me, David," Christopher leered, elbowing him back. "It'll take a lot of shit to scare me after what we've seen." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Well, if your sword was a half-dead psychotic woman, maybe I'd be scared." 

"Too bad she's not," David mused almost wistfully. He was enjoying the bantering. "It sure would be handy on the battlefield." 

"Yeah, though guns would be better." 

"We'd be more on level with the Sennites," David admitted, running a dirty hand through his tousled mop of hair. His smile faded, falling back into the worried frown that usually occupied his features. "I mean, there's only so much they can do now, after running out of most of their ammo and resources. But the smart ones still have stuff hidden away… what's left of them…" 

The conversation, which had been light-hearted and joking a moment ago, immediately fell back into serious grounds. Next to him, the blonde scowled at the reminder that there were still Old Worlders running around with automatic weapons-- though most had fled to Ka Anor by now, or decided to wait and store up their gear for better use. 

"Right now, the Hetwan are the ones we'll have to worry about. But we can't let ourselves forget the leftover Sennites. They'll be the difficult ones in the end," David continued absently, watching the fire sparks jump in the air. He chewed his lip in contemplation, unaware of the action that had become an addictive habit through his stay here. Nor was he aware of Christopher's fascinated stare. "The question is, can they last through the war until the end? I don't see them as very patient. They'll want to act. So far, we've been lucky at smoking some out… but the others… sooner or later, they'll have to get back into the action, right?" 

"Eventually, they'll have to burn themselves out," Christopher agreed darkly, turning his face away momentarily. "I just hope I'm around to see the little bastards fall." 

David almost had to smile. "Extracting justice on the bad guys?" 

"Vengeance will be mine," the blonde said solemnly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Haven't you heard that rule before?" 

"Hmm." 

"I never was the most forgiving of guys," Christopher continued thoughtfully, sounding almost amused. His mouth quirked into another grin. "You should remember that." 

"Hmm," David said again, but it was an agreement. His friend seemed content to leave it at that, and they fell silent, sitting in front of the crackling fire and listening to the sound of the men yelling vulgar jokes at each other. On another night, they may have joined them-- naturally, Christopher always enjoyed getting 'with the guys,' and David, too, felt good after a brief reprieve from his general status-- 

But this felt good, too. Sitting away from the group, just Christopher and him, and the night winds blowing his hair into his eyes. The warmth of his friend's proximity. The companionable silence. It had taken too long, David knew, before he realized how much he valued his Old World friends… 

They truly made him feel at home, even more than Everworld itself. 

"Um, hey… David?" 

"Huh?" He blinked, feeling scarlet rush to his cheeks-- and cursed himself, knowing the pink flush would stay there for a moment, and hated the fact that he was embarrassed so easily, even though being caught off-guard and in thought wasn't something to be censured for… 

As it turned out, however, he didn't need to worry about Christopher seeing him look embarrassed. When he turned his head, David realized the blonde wasn't looking at him at all-- he was staring at the ground awkwardly, still toeing at the imprints in the dirt that he'd made with his boots. 

"Um," he said, still refusing to look at David, "this isn't easy for me…" 

"What's wrong?" 

"I just wanted to say… well…" 

David stared at him. 

Christopher scowled. "Fuck, this is mortifying." 

"Jalil must be rubbing off on you," the general replied after a moment, mildly. "You know what 'mortify' means." 

"David," Christopher interjected harshly, his voice strained and somewhat nervous. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, see, because I've had something I… I always wanted to…" 

His heart shouldn't feel this strange suddenly-- clogged up and tightened, stuffed as a wad into his chest, matter and pulp pounding against the tissues of his ribcage. David swallowed, unable to pinpoint why he felt so uneasy and… well, slightly nerve wracked, actually. 

"I wanted to say…" the blonde stopped, blinking at the ground. "Well, I guess I just wanted to say thank you." 

_'W-what?'_

For a moment, the world sort of buzzed in David's ears, a constant rush that built into a deafening crescendo and left him with the hollow sense of non-obtained completion. "Thank me?" he echoed, incredulous. Surprised. Confused. 

Maybe a little disappointed. 

"That's it? Thank me?" he repeated again, feeling himself calm back down again even as he confusedly wondered if his blood sugar was acting up. "What the hell for?" 

"For… for a lot of shit," Christopher grunted, scratching the pale hair of his neck almost sheepishly. Now that he'd said it, he looked more relaxed. "You do a lot for me, you know? But I never appreciate it. Well, not to your face." 

"Christopher, I have no idea what you're talking about," David sputtered. "I haven't done _anything_ for you." 

"You did when Etain died." 

The conversation and atmosphere dropped like a dead fly. 

The silence fell like a familiar curtain over David's shocked features, the widened mahogany-hued eyes and gaping mouth. After a moment, in which Christopher prodded at his dirt clod a bit more, leaving his friend to stammer wordlessly at the nightly air and try to work out some semblance of an answer, he finally spoke again. 

"Look, I know I was… difficult. Back then. After it happened." 

David closed his mouth, uncertain but no longer startled. Now that he had the voice, however, he couldn't figure out what words to use with it. He'd never been good at comforting, and judging from the downcast expression of remembrance that traced Christopher's face like a shadow, his friend was thinking back on dark times. 

As it was, he didn't have to do anything except listen. 

"I never deal well with losing stuff," the blonde admitted. "When I was four and my brother was born? I threw a fit because I thought he was going to take away Mom and Dad. It was so stupid. I ripped up all my favorite baseball cards 'cause I was so mad at them." 

David watched the small smile appear on Christopher's features, feeling one answering on his own face, very slightly. 

"When I lost Etain," the blonde continued, his smile fading. "… it was a lot like that, only worse. I wanted everything to hurt just like me. I pushed _everyone _away. I just hated the fact that she'd been taken from me from something I couldn't even fight against. I couldn't even…" He stopped, a pained noise emitting from his lips. "Hell, I couldn't even say goodbye. It was just like that. And that hurt like a bitch, General, you gotta know it." 

"I know," David said after a pause. He ached with empathy for the blonde that was revealing his pain so openly suddenly, after so much time. Though he wasn't sure what had provoked it, it was a good thing-- very simply a good thing to hear the healing in his voice. After so much had happened… 

"I wanted to give up," Christopher murmured distantly, his blue eyes focused somewhere very far away. "I wanted to say, 'fuck the world.' Because it seemed like it would be so easy. All I had to do was throw in the towel, ignore the stakes, and everything could disappear for me. And I really tried. I tried to lose myself." 

Suddenly, he whirled on David with an incredulous expression, pointing out his finger and yelling, "But _you!"_

"W-what?" David demanded weakly, blinking in confusion at the waving finger Christopher was shaking at him. 

_"You!"_ barked the blonde, a twinkle of mischief appearing in the tired blue of his eyes. "You wouldn't let me, you _dumb_, fearless son of a bitch. You kept knocking on my door, bringing me food… every time I tried to lose myself, you were always there trying to help me back on my feet. It was like a goddamn conspiracy! You _meant_ to do it!" 

"But I--" 

"And you just wouldn't give up!" Christopher said loudly, overriding his protest. "How was I supposed to have a pity fest that may have eventually lead to my demise when you were always there? You dragged me to the meals, stuck by my side when I was obviously in a foul enough mood to scare the rest of the people in the castle…" 

David bit his lip pensively, eyeing his friend almost warily. "Um. Sorry?" 

"Damn straight you should be!" 

"But I didn't do anything--" 

"You wouldn't leave me alone! You were always around, looking dumb and worried for me, with some idiotic sad expression on your face…" 

"Hey!" David said in indignation. 

"_And_," Christopher overrode firmly, "you were the only thing that kept me going for ages." 

The silence fell again, and David felt something a little like wonder inside of his chest, stirring up through a blockade. "What?" 

When his face softened, the mischief fading from his gaze and a seriousness slope tracing his smile, Christopher actually looked amazingly sweet. He reached forward, putting a hand on David's shoulder, steady and demanding every hint of his attention possible. For a moment, the two boys sat there like that-- leaning close together, hooked by the connection of one hand and eyes that were filled with the firelight and a million words of gratitude spreading from Christopher to David. 

"You kept me alive," the blonde whispered. "So thanks. David." 

He was going to drown in that blue. David swallowed, unable to look away, unable to understand what was happening. "What? But Jalil--" 

"Jalil knew how to pull me back to life. But you were the one that kept me from falling in the first place, Napoleon," the blonde murmured affectionately, smiling gently. "I never got to tell you thanks for all that time, babysitting my ungrateful ass… David." 

The way he was saying David's name was starting to get worrying. It was a sound-- or rather, a tone-- that he had heard before. _Recently._ To someone else, in fact. The young general swallowed again, his throat contracting and the feeling of wonder in his stomach spreading throughout him. If there was anything to say to that, he wasn't sure what. He wasn't sure of anything much at this moment. 

"Christopher," was what he said instead. 

They were close enough that their noses were almost brushing. 

"Sometimes," Christopher whispered, "I think that I learned from her death. Because now I know…" 

Close enough to feel the heat of David's bright red face. 

"… that I've got to keep those precious to me…" 

Close enough to feel the words vibrating against him. 

"… very, very…" 

Lips brushing carefully. 

_"…close…"_

He was going to wake up any second, David thought hazily, because this couldn't be happening-- 

"Wasn't that line from a movie?" Jalil asked out of nowhere. 

--and it wasn't happening, but the ground felt awfully hard when Christopher shoved him off the log. 

Faced with the sudden cold rush of air against his heated cheeks, as well as the hardness of the dirt he was now sprawled out on, David blinked. Rapidly. A lot. "Um… ouch." 

Christopher was already sitting up straight on the log, looking sheepish and apologetic as he looked down at David. "Oh. Shit. Sorry. Here, let me help you up--" Grasping the general's hand, he yanked, sending the boy scurrying back on the log as his head turned upside down again. 

"Ouch," he repeated nonsensically, narrowing his eyes at Christopher as he tried to stop the dizziness. "What was _that_ for?!" 

"It's because he's a dumbass," the bored voice replied from behind them. 

David nearly fell off the log again. 

_'Oh. So that was who said--'_

"Jalil, you're a sneaky bastard," Christopher sulked, throwing a frown at the dark-skinned scientist standing behind them. "And you have horrible timing." 

"And here I thought it was perfect," the boy shot back. 

_'Good timing for--'_ and in an instant, David's head flew back to him and he was mortified. 

"Oh shit! Oh god--!" Christopher had been-- and he had-- and almost-- 

"No, he's just Christopher," Jalil muttered sardonically, coming forward and sitting on the other side of David. He was dressed down-- his pants no longer tucked in his boots to keep out the mud, his cloak stashed in the tents beyond. He looked almost in place with the shadows as he settled beside them and the campfire, the white glare of his shirt the only sign left before his mocha skin faded into the night. 

David glanced between the two frantically, his mind chaotic. Or rather, just very confused. Because Christopher-- well, he hadn't tried… but had he? And what was he going to do about it? Furthermore, the general realized with a sinking feeling accompanying the panic, what was _Jalil _going to do? After all, weren't they…? And hadn't he just…? 

"Nothing happened!" he yelped, oddly high, before realizing how horribly stupid he sounded. He went bright red again. "I mean…" 

"Well, nothing _did_ happen," Christopher amended grumpily. "No thanks to _you,_ Sherman." 

"I probably saved our general from a lifetime of nightmares," the scientist replied dryly. He flashed David a surprisingly white smile, his teeth almost glowing in the darkness. It was sympathetic. "He comes on strong. Ignore him." 

"Screw you, too, Jalil." 

"Shut up, blondie." 

"I-I didn't…" David glanced between them nervously, completely confused. His best friends just looked back at him with patient expressions. "I mean, I don't…" 

"You scared him," Jalil chided the blonde, his tone firm and severe. "These things have to happen gradually, you know. You can't just grab him in a random hallway and jump his bones like you did me, jackass." 

"What?!" David felt his face heat up again. "I-I don't want--" 

"Now go away and let me fix things," the mocha-skinned scientist continued. Christopher glared at him, but stood up. He brushed his knees off, freeing the imaginary dirt scattered there amongst the very real mud stains. 

"Fine, I'll be in our tent. Spoilsport." 

"Airhead." 

Christopher stuck out his tongue, made an extremely rude signal with his fingers, and turned around to leave. 

David sat, still stunned and slightly mortified, watching the blonde figure get swallowed by the shadows beyond the campfire. He could hear his footsteps fade off as he moved away, presumably to go to one of the makeshift tents, but his mind was still whirling with the past few moments. Next to him, Jalil sat quietly, allowing him to gather his thoughts and bearings a bit. If he'd been more aware of things, David would have been grateful for his tact. 

As it was, he was having trouble getting his head on straight. 

_'Okay, David… you're a general. You lead battles for Christ's sake. Get a hold of yourself and stop panicking,'_ he told himself desperately, screwing his eyes shut tightly. _'Okay, breath. You can do this. Just think this through. What the hell just happened?!'_

"I'm sure you're wondering what the hell just happened," Jalil said next to him, calmly. "And what I'm going to do to you now." 

His voice was placid and tranquil, and hardly angry. For a moment, David forced himself to take deep breaths and stop the panicked swell of thoughts in his mind. First things first-- and Jalil didn't sound upset or panicked, so he shouldn't either-- and once he finally gained complete control, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. In the darkness of the camp, his face illuminated only by the flickering flames, Jalil offered him a knowing, gently mocking smile. 

"Will you be alright?" 

"Oh, yeah," he said, attempting to sound cool and in control. "Perfectly fine. Just peachy, in fact. You know what? I'm so fine about everything that I'm going to pretend none of this _ever_ happened." 

"You're sounding like Christopher." 

"No, I'm not." 

"You _are_," Jalil countered, grinning slightly. His teeth were oddly white compared to the shades of his skin and the blemishes on his clothing. "Only he could use a phrase like 'just peachy' and get away with it." 

David just glared at him. 

After a moment, the young scientist sighed. He brushed a little dirt off of his slacks, ignoring the fact that he was sitting on a log, and therefore, most likely going to get even more dirty in the next few moments. "Okay, look. I'm sure you have questions…" 

When he looked at him, David reluctantly nodded. 

"And I'm sure you have just been completely thrown into the dark, considering what Christopher just did." 

"Yeah, well, he tried to…" The words got stuck in David's throat, and he felt his face flush again. Turning in an attempt to hide the unattractive redness of his face, he continued quickly, "Well, you know. You were there." 

"Yes, I was," Jalil said dryly. "And before you hurt yourself while worrying about whether or not I'm going to kick your ass, you can rest easy. I'm not upset or angry. I'm not going to kick your ass, nor will I accuse you of trying to steal my lover." 

"Your…" And he went bright red again, couldn't help it, just the sound of the word made him feel humiliated. _Lover. _What kind of word was it? Just the idea, just the connotations, and to see Jalil say such a flippant thing… 

"Yes, David, he's my lover. My… boyfriend, if you will," Jalil said reluctantly, distaste floating vaguely across his features. "I don't really care for either term, but there's not much else to label it. My partner, I suppose. We don't really talk about it, actually, so it's difficult to really consider what we would call each other…" 

"Oh," he said weakly. There wasn't much else he could say at that point. 

Jalil continued in spite of his slightly queasy sound, only glancing momentarily at the young general. "Look, David, I know this is strange. We've been friends, more or less, ever since we came into Everworld. You've known us for years. We've conquered gods before, obliterated armies, saved princesses… for chrissake, we flooded the Nile, remember?" 

"Yeah," David said. Smiled. "Yeah, we did." 

"We've done a lot of things together," Jalil continued quietly, his smile now reflecting David's own. "I can safely say that you are one of my greatest friends. If this_ thing_ with Christopher upsets you too much, or you can't stomach the concept, then that's okay. That's _okay_, David. You mean too much to me-- and to Christopher-- to throw away for something that we haven't even figured out yet. But I like him, David. I like him a lot, and even though I'm ready to drop this twisted relationship we're working on at the drop of a hat for you, I'd like to keep it. But you still have to be okay with it." 

"That's not… I mean… I'm fine," David finally stammered, still bright pink. He looked at the earnest, uncharacteristically open features of his friend's face, and felt the flush grow a little. "I'm_ fine_ with you guys. Really. If it… you know, makes you happy." 

"It does." The scientist grinned again, dark eyes flashing mischievously. "Very much." 

"Okay, but um…" The general screwed up his face and groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "I'm still confused. Christopher was…" 

"Trying to kiss you?" 

"W-well, not-- I mean--" 

Jalil laughed. 

"What?!" David demanded, feeling the burn in his cheeks heighten even further. The sensation only made him more irritated. "What the hell's your problem?! Shouldn't you be pissed off about it?!" 

"Oh, David, David," Jalil said with another chuckle, shaking his head. "You can plan an amazing battle. You can defeat Hetwan and challenge gods. But you're so _unbelievably _naïve, you know that?" 

"What?!" 

But it was too late; even as David sputtered indignantly, his friend slipped off of the log and into the shadows, heading towards his and Christopher's tent. He merely waved over his shoulder once. 

"Jalil!" 

The flap closed, leaving David gaping at the empty clearing around him. 

Somehow, even after the discussion, he just felt more confused than ever. 

* * *

"Is he hopelessly in love with us yet?!" Christopher yelled as his partner slipped inside the tent. He was sitting on one of the bedrolls, his hands tangled in the knots of string in an attempt to actually undo them. 

Jalil tossed him a scathing look as he sealed the flap shut. "Well, he won't be if he heard _that_, Einstein." 

"Hey, you're the brainiac, not me." 

"It was _your_ brilliant idea to bring him in on this." 

Christopher thought that over for a minute. "Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right. So… have you wooed him yet?" 

"No." 

"Damn." 

"You scared him," Jalil said mildly, crouching down beside the blonde. He took the tangled knot of strings away from him, picking idly at the loops sticking out. "You can't expect to do this in one night, remember? We'll have to take our time if this is what you want." 

"Of course it's what I want." Christopher looked up sharply. "It's what you want, too, right?" 

"I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want it." 

"Are you sure?" He took the knot of string away from Jalil's prying fingers, and with a frown, turned the young scientist's face towards his own. "If it makes you uncomfortable…" 

"No, it doesn't." 

"But I was the one to ask--" 

"Christopher," Jalil said firmly, jerking the bedroll strings back, "I want to do this. If you hadn't brought up the idea, I would have eventually. We both got into this knowing what would happen, and I'm not going to back out now. He means too much to us." 

Christopher sighed in relief. He sat down, throwing his arms around the back of his head and stretching. He eyed the dark-eyed boy's progress with the bedroll. "Great. Just… making sure." 

Jalil tugged lightly at the knot, and made a satisfied noise when it fell unraveled at his fingertips. 

Christopher watched. And grinned. 

"So… like, undoing that knot was a lot of work. Let's just share this one bedroll, huh?" 

"Christopher… you're an idiot." 

* * *

Right then. So. Yes, very OOC. And my David sucks. I can't write that boy. Ah well. Also shorter than the last part, and that it would have been, had I not been too lazy to find a good ending with the next part. But that just means that part of the next part is written, and it should be out sooner. YAY! Happiness. I'm SO sorry it took so long... let's hope people still read this stuff, eh? 

Love Everworld, damn you all. XO 


End file.
